


Bathtub

by Monsterunderkilt



Series: The Manse [18]
Category: Actor RPF, Celebrities - Fandom, RPF - Fandom, Real Person Fanfic - Fandom, Real Person Fiction
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:55:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26940232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monsterunderkilt/pseuds/Monsterunderkilt
Summary: My Manse dwellers try to convince me out of the tub
Series: The Manse [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1209447
Kudos: 1





	Bathtub

“Sweetheart?” Ken says as he enters the bathroom.

I don’t even look up. I keep typing. I can barely hear him through the ambient noise cancellation in my AirPods. “Yes, what?” I say.

He kneels down on the fluffy rug and rests his arms on the lip of the bathtub. “Are you hiding from us?”

I pick up my can of Good & Gather Dragonfruit and Pomegranate seltzer water and sip from an overly long green silicone straw.The bubbles sting in the best way. “No, why do you ask?’

“Well, because emmmm...” He reaches into the tub and swirls a finger over my bare knee.“There’s no water in here, and you’ve decided to escape even from your mind palace safe space.”

“It’s a Mind Manse and I just really want to be dry right now. Is that a problem?”

Ken bites his lower lip and touches my shoulder. He lets it rest there until I finally tear my eyes away from the screen of my new iPad with its fancy new keyboard that I bought for myself because damnit I deserve a present because everything else sucks.

I sigh and pause my M83 Pandora station. I reach up and touch my new husband’s face, breathing deeply. I hold the breath until I feel that familiar fangirl pang of prized love in my chest. I smile, grateful for that toasty feeling inside that I thought was gone forever. But it’s returned. “Sir Ken, will you and Stephen be playing Scrabble later or what?” I ask.

Ken blinks, squeezing my shoulder. “Yes, if you so desire.”

“I shall join you. I just need to sit here and reflect on the weirdness of this week. Mostly, I’m shovelling out all the batshit of society and shovelling in my appreciation for my new toy. I haven’t had anything resembling a real laptop in something like five years so I’m enjoying not being tethered to the desktop in the office and NOT typing on a goddamn iPad screen.”

His brows wrinkle as he studies my reclined position in a hard ass fibreglass shell. “But, Cait, this can’t be good for your posture—”

I press two fingers to his mouth. “Shhhhh... I won’t be long. I still have Shakespeare homework to do. I’m coming down from my gin delirium and will resume King Henry VIII soon. I have thoughts that must be dumped before tomorrow’s usual Terrace House viewing and Publix run.” I resume my Pandora station and start typing again. I wink and tap my cheek. “Give me a kiss.”

Ken leans forward and lays a nice, warm smacker right where I pointed. I turn just in time to catch his lips with mine. I breathe and smile, then open my eyes and wink again. “See you in a bit, Sir.”

Sometime later, Tilda finds me still curled up in the bathroom. She perches silently on the edge of the tub and patiently waits for me to notice her. I pause in my writing and take off one earbud, then give myself a whole ten seconds to be jealous of how angelic she looks wrapped in her long navy blue maxi dress. I can never wear maxi dresses. “Hey,” I say.

“Bro,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. She narrows her gaze seriously. “Ken asked me to check in on you.”

“I’m fine.”

She nods and stands up. “Alright,” she says as she floats away. Over her shoulder, she adds, “You want to go shopping with me soon?”

“Yes.”

“Ok.”

More time passes. Stephen scurries in and jumps into the tub with me, our knees knocking together as he settles in opposite me. He rubs my legs as if he’s planning to start a fire with the friction. I take out both earbuds and shut my iPad to fix him with an unblinking gaze. “Stephen.”

“Madam, please come down. You’re the gorgeous glue that keeps this motley family together.”

“I’m writing.”

“In the Manse, though?” he asks, not even trying to cover his whine. But then he sees my slow blink and he swallows whatever snarky thing he was about to say. He takes my hand and asks, “Is it that bad?”

I roll my eyes.

He grimaces. “Yeah ummm, the world is shit. It truly is. But you’ve got us again. Is it so shit that you need to retreat from your retreat? Go two levels deep? Is this _Inception_?”

A laugh tumbles out of me, along with a sob. “Oh, Stephen,” I say, interlocking his fingers with mine. “I’ve barely been with you these last four years, please forgive me.”

“Water under the bridge, muffincake. Ever since that night we drank together out of grief... it hasn’t been the same. I totally get it.”

“I miss the Report.”

“Pfft... I don’t,” he says frankly. “It was no doubt some of the best shit I’ve ever done, but writing it sucked the calcium out of my teeth.”

I can’t bury the second laugh and this makes him grin like a five-year-old who’s finally got a fish on the end of his line. He leans forward and tries to tickle my sides, reeling me in. I giggle until it hurts and he wraps me in his arms and legs, squeezing like an octopus. I take a deep breath and relent, twisting my head so I can steal a kiss.

Stephen pushes a curl out of my face and kisses me back. “Come on now, honeybutt, I’m outnumbered by Brits down there. We need to mount a revolution.”

I groan as he helps me stand up. “Ugh, my thighs,” I say.

Stephen’s eyes widen. “Uhhhh, engaging in a little too much newlywed fun times are we? Is Ken more of a hound dog than I thought?”

“I overdid leg day is all. Targeted muscles I didn’t want to remember I had. Feels like I climbed Ben Nevis again.”

Stephen and I leave the bathroom arm-in-arm. “Is that what you call Sir Ken’s trouser prince? Ben Nevis? My crotch dongle never got a specialised pseudonym.”

“Oh my God shut up.”


End file.
